


To Become A Kingslayer

by SebDoesWords



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Feelings Realization, Geralt Is In Denial, Heart-to-Heart, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Roche being clueless, Roche's path specifically, Talking, The Witcher 2 Spoilers, The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings, as in henselt is mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24927817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebDoesWords/pseuds/SebDoesWords
Summary: Geralt came a long way to clear his name of the accusations of being a kingslayer, but what he didn’t know was that the one he undertook the journey with would eventually turn into that exact persona.When Vernon Roche killed King Henselt of Kaedwen, Geralt turned a blind eye.But when Vernon Roche was on the brink of being found out, Geralt made a choice to become the very thing he had gone so far to dispute.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Vernon Roche
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	To Become A Kingslayer

**Author's Note:**

> I caught Vernon Roche brain worms, send help
> 
> Big thanks to [squiddtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiddtastic) for being a lovely beta!

“ _I killed him. Henselt had Roche’s unit murdered – I can’t call it anything else. In doing that, he signed his own death sentence. When I was looking for Saskia in Vergen, after the battle, I cornered him in a hut and I killed him.”_

Geralt had felt Roche’s eyes on him then, but there had been no chance to discuss Geralt’s decision until after he’d returned from escorting Brigida to the river. As anticipated, during a rare moment of respite between events, carefully carved out, Roche called Geralt to a secluded place where no one would hear the treacherous contents of their conversation.

“Why did you do it?” Roche asked on the upper floor of the ruined building near the poker players’ den, where Geralt had been attacked by a flock of harpies the first time he’d come by.

“Do what?” Geralt knew, but wanted to make sure.

He listened carefully to their surroundings, for any sign of eavesdroppers, but even if there had been any, the howling wind would’ve drowned out their words.

“You came all this way to clear your name, to prove you’re no kingslayer, so why did you lie to Radovid?”

Geralt shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against a brittle wall overlooking the mountains. “The truth would’ve been too valuable to Radovid. I’m sure you can imagine what he would’ve done to you if he knew. You’d either be rotting in the dungeons right now or a pawn for him to use when the time is right.”

“I know that,” Roche spat, pacing the platform with his fists clenched at his side. “But why did you take the blame yourself? It goes against everything you fought for.”

“What else should I have told him? That I didn’t know who killed Henselt?” Geralt asked, waving a hand. “He already saw through me when I claimed I wasn’t there. I already lied to him once. Saying it was a peasant mob, some unknown assassin, or whatever else, he wouldn’t have believed that. For a convincing lie, the stakes needed to be high.”

Roche shook his head and turned to look at Geralt. “I don’t understand you. What do you gain from saving my skin that outweighs what Radovid now thinks of you? You’ve only made clearing your name harder on yourself – he’ll not keep this to himself forever. How does any of this serve your goal?”

“Have you, even for a moment, considered that maybe I didn’t protect you to aid my goal?”

“Then why _did_ you do it?” Roche demanded, a frustrated hiss in his tone. “Dammit, Geralt, how many times will you make me ask?”

Not even Geralt had known his reasons when he’d spoken those fateful words in front of Radovid. He hadn’t had a clue why, but ironically, being apart from Vernon was what made him see the whole picture. It was thanks to Brigida, even though she couldn’t know what a stir she’d caused in him.

 _“Roche, Roche, Roche… You’re with me, not him,”_ was what she’d said and thus planted the seed of a very dangerous realization. Geralt had tried to suffocate it, to stomp out the sparks before they got a chance to burst into flames, but when Brigida had said the words _your dear Roche_ only moments later, Geralt had felt as if he were well and truly on fire. His heart had pounded with the dawning truth of it all, and he’d felt sick because he knew what it meant.

He thought of Yennefer now. He knew he’d been with her, searched for her. There was something pulling him towards her, urging him to find her and stay by her side, but she also seemed strangely distant now, with everything that had happened since he’d awoken in Kaer Morhen, remembering nothing of his past. And then there was Triss. The woman who had kept Yennefer a secret from him during his amnesia, but also the one he’d come here to save. And yet, with the choice of doing exactly that or joining Roche to rescue an innocent child from Dethmold’s clutches, Geralt knew without a doubt what he was going to pick.

“Have you left the world of the living or do you just like to ignore me?” Roche asked, shoving Geralt’s shoulder.

The Witcher blinked, looking at him, brown eyes boring into his. “I did it because…” Geralt paused, swallowing. “Well, that’s what friends do, isn’t it? Help each other out?”

It had been his chance to come clean, and he’d let it pass.

Roche took a step back and frowned, his shoulders slumping. He looked deflated and unsatisfied with the answer he’d been given. “Well, I wouldn’t know. I don’t have any friends.”

“You wound me, Vernon,” Geralt said, pushing off the wall. He couldn’t help but smile now. “Here I thought we were friends.”

“Hm.” Roche looked away, his gaze flickering over the rubble-strewn floor. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Shocker.”

Roche didn’t react to Geralt’s sarcasm and instead turned his eyes on him, searching. “Since when do you call me by my first name?”

“Don’t know. But I thought since we’re friends, it’d be weird to keep calling you Roche because my horses have always and will always be called Roach.”

For a moment, Vernon just stared at the Witcher. “Are you mocking me?”

Geralt snorted and shook his head as he walked past him. “Come on. We’ve got a child to save.”


End file.
